The Man in the Park
by FrozenHeartsDontBeat
Summary: A group of kids go into the town park which was closed down years ago. Not too far into their trip, they realize that there might have been a ore grave reason as to why the park was closed in the first place, and that they might not be alone. (SHORT STORY. Gruesome violence throughout.)


The Man in the Park

Charlie looked down at his feet, uncovered due to his need of a speedy getaway just moments ago. Breathing heavily, he leaned against the nearest dead tree, and pondered what actions he took that made him deserve to be a part of this nightmare. Having lost his shoes evading his pursuer, his feet were a mangled, bloody mess after running over broken branches and dead locust tree limbs. He suddenly heard a noise, a faint, static noise, only getting closer and closer. He knew at that time, that this was no nightmare; this was a horrible reality with no other escape but death itself. He peered around the trunk he used for cover, only to find nothing. Absolutely nothing. The noise had stopped. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief, and turned around. He then met face to face with the tall, marauding man.

Derek, Charlie, Bricen, Matthew, Drayson, Makayla, Megan, Celsey and many others had heard about the park that they stood in front of. It used to be a popular spot for many people back in the day. It used to have all the toys for the children, sights for the people who saw things for what they really were. But that was then. Now the park has been reduced to nothing but an allotment that lacks anything that is believed to be desirable. The grass was unkept and was kneecap length, with a color of brownish yellow, due to the lack of nutrition and sunlight. The dogwood trees were tall and dead, menacing even. The swings and teeter-totters were rusted over, but just enough so when the wind blew, they moved as if they were still being played on by the children who loved them so. The group that stood in front of the sign that read, "Fleetwood Park," remembered the old ghost tales that have been told throughout the generations about the park, and gazed upon the ill-lit horizon of the park, now darkened due to the mangled mess of dead limbs from the neglected dogwoods and shrubs.

"Can we go in there? Like, for real?" asked Megan, a short brunette with a skinny but rather muscular figure, who was holding onto Bricen's arm tightly. People are timid when it comes to areas like this, but just looking at a place like this… You could feel an unholy vibe about it. Bricen, a shorter, more nerdy kind of guy who loved to play computer games, jokingly stated, "Nope, but that's the fun of it isn't it?" His smile faded however, gazing upon the ground of the deserted park and making out rocks shaped like gravestones protruding here and there, in awkward places such as behind trees, even surrounding the playground.

The group debated on whether or not to actually enter. It was the end of their senior year, and they decided to enter Fleetwood Park, despite the stories, and stay the night. The group voting ended up with the guys wanting to go in, the girls wanted to stay out. Celsey, who was a blonde haired, careless, skinny gal, who was taller than most girls her age, an also partner to Matthew, didn't vote. She simply didn't care either way. She had a mentality that all these ghost stories were nothing but complete nonsense that's been passed down and changed throughout the years by decrepit creeps that tried to scare children. "Well, it's settled then. Who's leading the pack?" asked Derek, a tall, masculine country boy who had a certain way with ladies on the phone, but in person backed down. "We gotta find a place to set up camp. Preferably someplace with a roof." Matthew, a taller, dark haired, scraggly facial-haired guy who lived in woods for most of his life, replied, "I'll lead, and we'll take what we can get, you pussy." laughter was exchanged, spreading a glimmer of joy to what seems like an area of complete depression.

The group was passing through the first acre of the park. there was gazebos that looked like a good candidate for living quarters on that dark night, but upon closer examination, the roof was rotten, the boards serving as columns for the roof were almost breathing with termites. So deeper still they went, into the barren park. Everyone was equipped with flashlights, food provisions, water, walkie talkies, and the guys carried tents and sleeping bags due to their female company complaining about the weight of their packs.

Twigs snapped. Everyone stopped. they were walking on a path that was relatively clear, excluding dried up leaves that rustled along the uneven rocks that used to be a nature trail. All of the flashlights were scanning across the walls of trees that surrounded the trail. Contrary to the trees at the entrance, these ones had leaves. They were dead leaves, but they were leaves nonetheless. "What was that?" asked Makayla, a funny, cute, nerdy, and fairly new-to-the-group, strawberry blonde companion to Drayson. "Could be anything," said Drayson, a tall, nerdy, punkish looking guy who wears skinny jeans and beanies like it's a religion. "Probably a critter, more than likely."

"Guys," asked Celsey worriedly, "where's Matthew?" Megan replied, "Bricen's gone too!" Derek got on his walkie talkie and was about to phone their channel, when two dark figures came out from the trees, and sprinted towards them, moaning and flailing their arms wildly. The girls screamed and grabbed each other as the figures approached them. The two figures, now visibly easy to see that they were only Matthew and Bricen, joined the other guys, giving high-fives and laughing so hard tears rolled down their faces. The girls were furious, but couldn't help but laugh at their childish behavior towards the prank. But the laughter was cut short when the girls pointed out to the guys that their prank had gone too far. the guys looked to where they were pointing and saw a tall man, standing in the distance, watching. Only for a second he stood there, and then he was gone in the blink of an eye.

"You guys took it to the extreme," argued Megan, "pulling the whole, 'Man in the Woods' story. You got us once, isn't that enough?" All the other girls agreed, it was funny the first time, but now it was just immature. "I swear that's all we did!" Stammered Charlie, a shorter, acne ridden, more goofy kind of guy who had known Drayson for much of his life. "Maybe it was just an animal, o-or maybe just some branches!" Makayla replied, "Yeah, but those things don't disappear as fast as that thing did!" "Look, let's forget about it." Said Drayson, trying to get the group calmed, wrapping his arm around and pulling a worried Katy closer to his side. "I think we need to leave..." was Celsey's reply. Matthew explained, "Look, we're here and we're gonna stay. This is supposed to be fun, so let's have some fun, huh?" So on the group went. They figured that they were probably just scared and remembered the old ghost stories, or just seeing things. Nevertheless, they were still pursuing their endeavor.

About another two acres or so into the thick mess of trees, they came into a clearing that had the warden's house. It was a small, two story cottage with plain grey, cracked walls, and peeling paint. The sides were intact, there were no fissures on the ground floor, so it was obviously sturdy enough to spend the night in. It was a definite plus to the guys, seeing as now they wouldn't have to put up with the hassle of pitching tents. All they had to do was just pick a room, set up the cots, and wake up in the morning. There was something eerie about the place, a bleak aura surrounding the walls that seemed to have an effect on the inhabitants. However, all they had to do was just wake up. They settled how accommodations would be issued. Bricen and Megan got the bedroom downstairs with Derek sleeping in the living room, While Drayson, Makayla, Matthew, and Celsey got rooms with Charlie sleeping in the nook upstairs. Everyone was getting settled in, rolling out sleeping bags, setting up cots, checking for rodents, and getting increasingly tired. It had been a long day. The night would be longer.

Derek laid in his sleeping back, watching "Night of the Living Dead," on his iPad, a fitting movie for this eerie and creepy night. Zombies ran back and forth on his screen, eventually leading to a scene where zombies were gathering around a house, bumping into it, scraping. Scraping. Scraping, but it wasn't coming from the iPad. Everyone heard the ominous scraping, which sounded like dragging a metal rake along broken grass and razor blades. Derek turned off the Apple device, and joined the others already waiting, looking at the door in the main room where the noise seemed to be emitting from. Drayson had a .45 caliber pistol in his hands that he had packed along just in case of an emergency regarding having to take an animal's life, and had it trained at the door. Bricen moved in closer, the scraping sound getting louder and louder. Drayson nodded, and Bricen kicked the door open. Then, silence.

Nothing was outside the door. Everything as quiet. There was no one in sight. the guys went outside, while the girls stayed inside the cottage. "What could have made those noises?" asked Megan. Celsey cried out, "See, we should've stayed away, and-"

"Shh," Matthew interrupted. Celsey hit him, saying, "Don't you 'shh' me, I'm just worried that-"

"SHH," interrupted Matthew again. They all listened. There was a faint noise. Static. Static that was coming from behind. with every muscle the group moved, the static became increasingly louder. The noise stopped when they all turned around.

There was blood as soon as they turned around. Blood on the wall, blood pouring to the ground, everywhere, blood. The source of the torrential downfall of the blood was Derek, who was doubled over, writhing in pain with a tall, slender man in a suit with no face standing over him. The man had blood on his arm. No, not an arm, but a single appendage. One appendage out of six that protruded out of the back of the man. Derek rolled over, uncovering a deep gash in his abdomen that exposed his entrails. His body lay motionless on the floor, surrounded by the his own dark red blood that kept him alive moments ago. In a flash, the man was gone. Derek's death happened so quickly, so swiftly, that everyone was speechless. Except for Megan, who let out a shrill, chilling scream, which quickly led to a muffled, horrible sounding choke.

Everyone turned in shock to see Megan holding her throat, gurgling what could have been another scream. They saw the all too familiar sight of the dark, red colored blood stream down her hand, her arms, dripping to the floor, trickling at her mouth. She fell to her knees, and joined Derek in a similar fate. The man stood over the two bodies, faceless and pale. the group realized they were next, and fled. Drayson grabbed Makayla and ran out the back door. Matthew took Celsey and did the same, splitting up with Drayson and Katy as soon as they were outside. The man then blocked the back door. Charlie snapped to, and ran upstairs while Bricen followed. Seeing there was only one way out, and that the man was walking, no, gliding up the stairs, Charlie threw Bricen and himself out the second story window onto the hard, barren terrain down below. Charlie got up and ran, now shoeless due to his feet getting snagged on broken glass, all bloody and penetrated with glass, and ran away. He didn't know what was to become of him or Bricen. He didn't want to know.

This all flashed before Charlie's eyes as he remembered every horrible and terrifying second of his experience in Fleetwood Park. He remembered this, and wanted to forget every bit of it as he leaned on the dogwood tree, glaring into the man's pale, nonexistent face. He thought of the blood from his friends that will stain the cottage walls for god knows how long. But he could think of nothing else, for the man slipped one of his appendages along Charlie's throat, leaving him there to die.

Bricen, shocked, stumbled around the wooded area of the park, not knowing what to believe. His girlfriend of three and a half years, cut down like an animal, lying on the ground, all life gone from her body. He stumbled upon a small gravestone, and fell to his knees weeping. he looked up to read a faint, scratched message etched onto the grave. It read, "ALWAYS FOLLOWS." Bricen looked back down, not knowing his fate. he heard a barely audible noise that was all too familiar. Static. He turned and met face to chest with the man. In one fatal sweep, there was a scream, and the man was gone, leaving Bricen laying in front of the gravestone, a bloody, shredded mess.

Matthew heard the scream. He was on the walkie talkie, trying to phone Drayson's channel. "Are you there? We don't remember the way out of here," explained Matthew. There was nothing on the other side of the radio. Celsey was leaned up against a stump, fighting to hold back tears. Matthew looked down at her, not wanting to accept what might become of them. He sat beside her, put his arm around her, and pulled her close. Her tears dropped onto his hoodie like little raindrops of dwindling hope. They sat in silence, holding each other, until a noise emitted from Matthew's pocket. It was Katy.

"Matthew? Celsey? Anybody? Is anybody there?" asked Makayla. She was crying, and definitely scared. Matthew replied, "Where's Drayson? Are you okay?" Makayla replied, "I thought maybe he made his way to you. He got tripped up and told me to just run and try to find you. I heard gunshots a little bit later, but I haven't heard much since then. He's not with you?" Matthew looked over at Celsey. She was shaking her head and crying even more. "No, not yet," replied Matthew. "He'll turn up though." Makayla asked, "Where can we meet? I hear-" She was cut short, static had made anything on that channel inaudible. But that static wasn't just coming from the walkie talkie. Matthew turned around.

There he was, standing above Celsey. She had no idea, just sitting there, tears running down her face, all the way to the barren ground of the park.. It didn't take Matthew long to process what will become of them both. "Hey, Celsey?" Said Matthew with a straight face. "What?" She replied in between sniffles. "Just thought I'd tell you that I love you," tears rolled down his face, "and that I always will." Celsey forced a smile and said, "I love you too and I alwa-" She was cut short by the man putting a deep slash down her back, killing her instantly. "NO!" Screamed Matthew. He charged the slender man, swinging at him. If he was going out, he was going down with a fight. The man disappeared, gone. Static. Matthew panted uncontrollably. He knew he was going to die, but he would die in vain if he didn't go out swinging. Static. Matthew closed his now teary eyes, forcing a few to cascade from his eyes. STATIC. Then, as it became unbearably loud, it ceased. All was quiet.

Makayla walked alone, calling out for Drayson through sniffles an sobs. She had found the path that led to the front gate, along with a blood trail along the pebble ridden path. She looked ahead, and saw a figure leaning against a stone pillar for support. It was Drayson. She smiled, wiped her eyes, and ran to him. But as she gained a better sight at what had become of him, her smile faded, turned to something of disbelief, and she realized the true horror of the gruesome situation.

Drayson was indeed leaning for support, but he no longer needed it. He had multiple slashes down his torso, arm, and legs. One arm lay on the ground beside him, accompanying the pool of blood. His clothes were tattered, and his gun lay at his feet. There were empty cartridges, and she looked up at him again to see through a teary line of vision that there was a bullet hole through his head. He had shot himself. There was a faint static, and she turned around, tears welling in her eyes once again. There was a lone figure, but it was not the man. It was Matthew. The static became unbearable.

Matthew had found a trail that led straight to the path that the group used to walk right into this nightmare, and followed it to find the deceased body of Drayson, and a mourning Makayla. But there was a third figure. It was the man. Before Matthew could do anything, the man sliced two opposite ways down Makayla's back, dropping her cold, the man standing above her. Matthew screamed and pulled on his hair, doubling over. This monster had killed every single one of his friends, and there was nothing that he could do to bring them back. They were gone. But he was still here. He sprinted at the man, and swung again, to no avail. The man was gone again. The force behind his punch made him hit the ground, and he saw the pistol that Drayson had, and picked it up, ready to fire. He got up and met face to face with the murdering monstrosity that had haunted him for too long. Matthew fired the remaining rounds into the man, but with absolutely no effect. He had teleported away again, leaving no indication of him being hurt. Matthew ran, tears in his eyes, to the truck outside the park that the group had used to get here. He started it up and backed up to leave, and took one more glance out the window to see the man waving at him, as if to say goodbye.

Sixty three years later, Matthew, now grey haired and decrepit, was sitting on his porch watching the sun set, only one block away from Fleetwood Park. He could see the entrance from where he sat. Everyone in town stayed away from Matthew. The kids made fun of him and called him crazy. But he didn't care. He watched as a group of four walked to the entrance of the park. Two boys, two girls. They talked for a while, and then entered the park. Matthew smiled, and sat there all night, waiting to hear the screams that came from the park that night. One by one by one, screams rang out until Matthew knew there was only one left alive. He got out of his chair, and walked into his house. He looked at the paintings of the pale, expressionless qualities of the man that he painted. There had to be over a hundred in the living room. The walls were riddled with pictures of him, there were scratches in the walls that read, "WAKE UP," "NO ESCAPE," as well as many other gloom-ridden sayings. Matthew smiled. He knew he wasn't crazy. No matter what the doctors said his condition was, he wasn't crazy in his own mind. Matthew turned off all the lights in his house and made his way to the bedroom. He laid down, and heard the final scream of terror and death of the last person to enter the park. Matthew smiled again, and said, "I guess I'm just the lucky one." He closed his eyes to sleep. Silence. Slowly, ever so slowly, there was a faint noise becoming louder. Louder.

"No. . ." Matthew said as the noise was clear now. His eyes snapped open.

Static.

STATIC.


End file.
